Consentient
by gr8rockstarrox
Summary: There's a boy she's known ever since she could remember. There's a girl he's known ever since he could remember. Tom Riddle should have known better than to mess with the heads of two innocent children. Fem Harry. AU.


**Summary:** There's a boy she's known ever since she could remember. There's a girl he's known ever since he could remember. Tom Riddle should have known better than to mess with the heads of two innocent children.

 **Rating:** T, likely to go up.

 **Disclaimer:** HP &co. belongs to JKR.

 **Warning:** FemHarry, AU. Not beta-ed.

* * *

 **Foreword:**

This story is a monster, and has been in the works for such a long time now that I'm just relieved it has ever seen the light of day. There is a serious plot here, unlike _Noteworthy Boredom_ , which has its plot hidden behind essentially light-hearted humour and jokes.

Initially, you'll find that things seem similar to cannon, but eventually, there will be major divergences. In other words, it will completely be AU. Almost nothing will be the same.

This features a female Harry Potter, and if that squicks you out, this is not the story for you. I repeat, this is not the story for you.

This has been categorised as 'adventure' and 'friendship', because at the age of eleven, romance doesn't play a role, while friendship does. Also, the character listing, apart from HP and DM, will keep changing to reflect the latest subplot's main character.

Hopefully, there will be no other long author's note from me. Thanks for reading.

xx

* * *

CONSENTIENT

CHAPTER 1

* * *

.

 _1980, May_

Lucius Malfoy got up from the floor and moved towards the pale, red-eyed man sitting on a throne of bones. Lucius still couldn't understand why his sister-in-law had offered her home to the Dark Lord. But then, it was a well known fact that Bellatrix was a lunatic.

"Are you doubtful about my request, Lucius?" asked the Dark Lord, his voice cold and high.

Lucius suppressed a shudder. He was thankful to Narcissa for teaching him Occlumency. Otherwise, the Dark Lord would have known how he really felt.

"Of course not, my lord. I exist merely to serve you."

Lucius was secretly very glad that his pregnant wife would give birth to the Malfoy heir the next month. When Severus had come in raving about a prophecy, Lucius had been worried that it would be his unborn son, but thankfully, it was not to be.

"Then you shall have no problem administering the potion to your wife?"

"Narcissa would consider it a privilege to consume a potion made by you, my lord," lied Lucius smoothly. From her place in the shadows of the walls, Lucius heard Bellatrix laugh like the maniac she was.

"Hush, Bella. I am sure you will want to see your nephew join my inner ranks?"

Bellatrix Lestrange stopped cackling and stepped out into the light of the fire. She bowed down respectfully, before speaking.

"My lord, I shall take the greatest of pleasures in teaching him the Dark Arts, all to serve you."

The Dark Lord withdrew a bright green potion and held it out to Lucius. Lucius hurried up to the horrid looking throne, wondering how Narcissa would react to having such a piece of furniture in their Manor. She would probably have the house elves throw it out, saying it didn't go with the colour scheme she had chosen.

"At the risk of sounding impertinent, my lord, how do you plan to administer the twin potion?" asked Bellatrix, still kneeling on the floor.

"You are right, you are being impertinent." He flicked his wand, causing Bellatrix to scream in pain. Once the pain subsided, she grinned at the Dark Lord. Lucius watched on silently, in disgust.

"I believe we have a new recruit by the name of Peter Pettigrew. He will be of considerable help."

Bellatrix nodded, assuaged for the time being. The Dark Lord turned his eyes onto Lucius.

"The potion is to be administered the full moon before the predicted date of birth. I shall check if you have administered it by using Veritaserum on you. If you have not, you shall find yourself heirless.

Lucius gulped, before he nodded and exited the room, recognising his dismissal. He wondered how Narcissa would react to the Dark Lord threatening their unborn son. She would probably try to kill the Dark Lord. Narcissa still had not forgiven him for becoming a Death Eater.

With his thoughts revolving around his pregnant wife, he Flooed home, trying to forget the shrieks of laughter he heard from the room he had just exited.

* * *

x

* * *

.

 _1980, June_

"My l-l-lord?"

He was sitting on his throne of bones, enjoying the fear that the plump man in front of him was projecting. He felt his lip turn slightly at the sight of this bumbling buffoon that Bellatrix had recruited. But then again, even the strongest of wizards were scared to talk to him.

He was the most powerful wizard on earth.

He was Lord Voldemort.

"Have you done the deed, Pettigrew?" asked Voldemort's supposedly most faithful follower. Even after all that she had done for him, he did not trust her. But he did trust her to deal with this blithering mass of flesh cowering on the ground in front of him.

"Y-y-es, I-I have. Th-they don't sus-s-pect a th-thing."

" _Crucio!"_

Voldemort decided to let Bella have her bit of fun. After all, he had made her stay back from the raid. Also, he was feeling particularly magnanimous. Things were all going according to plan.

He was immortal, and he planned to stay that way.

* * *

x

* * *

.

 _1981 – November_

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place one would expect astonishing things to happen. The sun was not yet out, but Petunia Dursley liked doing these things early.

She opened the door to put out her milk bottles, only to find a basket that held a sleeping baby which clutched a letter in its tiny hand. Petunia placed the bottles and then rubbed her eyes, wondering if it was a hallucination.

When she removed her palms from her face, the baby was still there, obviously not a figment of her imagination.

She took in two calming breaths, in vain, before she screamed.

The baby opened its bright green eyes and stared at her, almost in confusion, before beginning to wail.

Many miles away, in a manor where a husband and wife were secretly celebrating the demise of the Dark Lord, a baby opened his grey eyes and began to wail, though he had absolutely no reason to.

* * *

x

* * *

.

 _1991, May – Present Day_

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harriet woke with a start.

Her aunt rapped on the door again, and she stifled a groan.

"Up!" screeched the unpleasant voice belonging to Petunia Dursley, and Harriet was tempted to just remain in bed. As she lay there for a couple of seconds longer than usual, enjoying the cool darkness provided by the cupboard, Harriet heard her aunt working in the kitchen. She heard the frying pan being put on, and scrunching up her eyes, rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream she'd been dreaming.

It was something to do with a flying motorcycle, and Harriet had the feeling she'd dreamt of it before. Either it was her dream, or it was–

 _'Why does your shrew of an aunt always screech like that?'_

Harriet suppressed a grin at the thought that had entered her head. She replied to the question, the way she had been doing since time immemorial.

'And good morning to you too, Draco.'

 _'You forced me to dream about some flying Muggle contraption,'_ he complained, but Harriet merely rolled her eyes.

'Well, you made me dream about a potion that turned everything to chocolate, remember?'

However, her mental conversation with her only friend was interrupted when she heard another rap on her door. Her aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," answered Harriet as she slowly sat up in her bed.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

This time, Harriet failed to stifle her groan.

"What did you say?" her aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing!" she answered chirpily, mentally berating herself for having forgotten that it was Dudley's birthday. How _could_ she have forgotten?

 _If a pig eats a pig, isn't it cannibalism?_

Harriet snorted. She loved it when Draco made snarky remarks about Dudley.

'I think cannibalism is only strictly for humans,' she replied.

She got slowly out of bed and started looking for an elastic hair band. She found one under her bed and, after pulling a spider off it, she carefully tied up her hair. Harriet was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept, much to Draco's horror.

She warily opened the cupboard door and made her way out. The first thing she saw when she entered the kitchen was a large pile of presents.

'Would you _look_ at that?' she commented to her friend. 'He's got so many gifts. Again.'

 _'You know, all you have to do is tell me, and I can come to Surrey with Father – he'll let me keep you here, with me, and I'm sure Mother will love combing your hair.'_

 _'_ Draco', she thought, gritting her teeth, 'You can't keep me, I'm not a thing.'

She was now flipping the hash browns, ensuring that it was evenly cooked on both sides.

 _'I'll buy you more presents than what the whale and the giraffe have bought for the pig. Will you let me take you away, then?'_ he asked, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Harry grimaced in response. Draco always called Uncle Vernon a whale, and once, she had almost called him that, accidently. Uncle Vernon was convinced that Harriet was a lunatic, as she often laughed to herself.

Little did he know, that the laughter was a response to Draco's perpetually rude commentary.

Uncle Vernon had had Harriet visit the school's psychiatrist when she was six, much to Draco's indignation and her amusement. Thankfully, the older woman had told Vernon in no uncertain terms that it was normal for a child of her age to have imaginary friends. She's even given Harriet a lollipop for talking to her openly.

As Harry moved on to work on the eggs, she felt her friend put on a silk bathrobe. This mysterious link the two of them shared let them experience the other's emotions and experiences, often at the oddest of times.

'Really, Draco? Silk?'

 _'The finest of Acromantula silk. Mother got it for me yesterday from Paris.'_

'Did she go to the Eifel Tower?' she asked her friend longingly. She had always wanted to visit all the seven wonders of the world, ever since she had read about them in school.

 _'Mother shops there on a monthly basis.'_

'How come you never told me before!' she protested. Of course, she knew that Narcissa Malfoy often went to France, but she hadn't known that it was that common.

 _'You never asked,'_ came Draco's smug response, and Harriet was tempted to stick her tongue out at him.

He sensed her reaction, and became smugger than earlier, which she decided to ignore completely.

As she finished frying the eggs, Dudley came in, followed by his mother. Being the ungrateful oaf that he was, Dudley started counting the number of presents.

Trying not to roll her eyes, she focused on allowing Draco to see what was going on.

'Looks like a pig in a wig, doesn't he?' she remarked snidely. She felt Draco chuckling, and knew that it would be a good day.

* * *

x

* * *

Harriet lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a window in her room, if it could be called that. Harry loved looking at the moon, and Draco always had some interesting story to share about the stars in the sky.

In all honesty, she had not meant to set the boa constrictor on her cousin, even if Draco had egged her on mentally. At least he had found the whole incident hilarious. He had seen the whole thing unravel, through her eyes. And yet, he'd been of no help. If anything, he'd goaded her.

Draco had been ecstatic at the end result of the incident – the vanishing of the glass. He loved counting her 'accidental bouts of magic', as he called it. He was convinced that she was a witch, and that she too would attend a school called Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was a fantasy that Harriet liked to indulge in. Often times, it was all that Draco could talk about. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was on the Board of Governors – something which Draco always mentioned, to assure her that she'll somehow get in.

Draco also felt that she wasn't a Muggleborn – he had a lingering suspicion that her parents were not Muggle. Harriet couldn't help but wish that it was true. But if it were true, seeing as most wizards and witches were related to one another, why had she been left in the care of Vernon and Petunia? That was a question that even Draco couldn't answer.

Harriet knew very little about her parents. All she knew was that they'd died in a car crash when she was a baby. She had been in the car too; that was why she had a scar on her forehead. When she strained her memory, she could picture a blinding green light and a burning sensation on her forehead. She supposed that that was her memory of the accident.

She couldn't remember her parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, she was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house – she'd searched even in the awfully dusty attic.

Draco, being a good friend, had looked into his genealogy charts and his family's library, but had not found an Evans family anywhere. The closest he'd come to were the Welsh family Ifans, who had died out a couple of centuries back – Draco's theory was that the family had possibly gone into hiding to avoid persecution – they'd been involved in illegal soul-bonding rituals – and that they'd settled down in Great Britain after modifying their surname.

According to him, it was possible for people to live incognito, often remaining hidden with Muggle society, so that the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be able to track them, seeing as there was no record of them in the first place.

One thing that Harriet had learnt from her many interactions with Draco about the magical world was that wizards and witches were very paranoid people – she supposed that the witch hunts carried out by the Muggles a few centuries back gave them enough reason to be so.

Every now and then, Harriet would catch sight of people dressed strangely, in robes of unholy colours, such as bright magenta and violent violet. She knew from Draco that these were witches and wizards. What surprised her the most was that for such a secret society, there seemed to be quite a few people scattered all over the place.

She often wondered if she really would get her Hogwarts letter. Draco had already received his letter last month – children who were eligible to go to Hogwarts usually received it before the eleventh birthday.

Granted, there was more than a month to go for her birthday, but she couldn't help but feel worried. Hogwarts had been a symbol of hope for so long for her that she knew that she'd be crushed if she couldn't go there, be with the people that Draco spoke about so proudly.

There was no one for her here in Surrey. It was at school, especially at school, that she had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harriet Evans in her cheap frocks and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

 _'Quit feeling sorry for yourself,'_ came a chiding thought her way.

 _'_ You'd feel sorry for yourself too if you were locked in a cupboard, hungry.'

 _'I already said I'd send Dobby over with some food. I told you Mother and Father need to go to sleep first.'_

'Could you check on him right away? she asked. 'I'm hungry and sad.'

 _'I know... I've asked Dobby to make you a chocolate cake,'_ he answered, knowing how much Harriet loved chocolate.

Draco usually sent her some wizarding chocolate, such as Chocolate Frogs, because of her unhealthy addiction to the cocoa. He usually sent his owl, Hermes, with some of her favourite items, such as pumpkin pasties and liquorice wands. She'd meet with Hermes in the nearby park – he'd wait for her on one of the higher branches, and she'd climb up _their_ tree to collect the parcel from him.

Draco also sometimes sent her green and silver ribbons, and she sent him cards she made in art class. Most of her cards featured dragons, which she knew pleased him to no end.

'Thanks, Drakie,' she said, softly.

 _'I told you not to call me that! I've grown up now!'_ he exclaimed.

'You're the same age as me,' she told him calmly.

 _'But it was all right to call me that only when we were both six!'_

'Oh shut up, Malfoy.'

 _'Call me Draco. It's such a royal name, don't you think?'_ he said, his voice sounding snooty in her head. But that was how he was. That was _who_ he was. Harriet couldn't, for the life of her, imagine Draco being anything except the way he was.

'I think Harriet is much better,' she told him confidently, as a strong smell of chocolate cake hit her through her link with Draco – it was safe to assume that Dobby had already baked the cake.

 _'Please, Harry is such a common Muggle name.'_

'My name is _Harriet_. Not Harry.'

 _'But_ you _asked me to call you Harry,'_ he pointed out.

'That's because you started calling me Ms. Evans after spending a day with that Parkinson girl,' Harriet protested hotly.

 _'That girl is so vapid. I don't know why Mother insists on calling her for play dates,'_ said Draco, going off on a conversational tangent, as he often did.

'I wish I could go on play dates,' she thought, almost longingly.

 _'Once you come to Hogwarts, we'll both be in Slytherin, and you can have a play date with Parkinson where you can teach her that Monopolo game you want to play,'_ he said.

 _'You mean Monopoly?'_ she asked, knowing that he mispronounced the name just because he knew it was her favourite board game – never mind that she'd played it only twice till now.

 _'Yes, same thing. Dobby informs me that he's left the plate outside your door. He said he took precautions to be silent as well as invisible.'_

Harriet opened the door, in eager anticipation. This wasn't the first time the Dursleys had sent her to bed hungry. However, Draco always sent food over, whenever he was sure that his mother wouldn't notice. His house-elf, Dobby, was truly a marvellous cook.

Of course, Harriet had never met Dobby till now – Draco had said something about plausible deniability in the case that he was ever caught for wilfully neglecting the Statute, even though he claimed that the chances of that happening were very slim, given that he was about a hundred and ten percent sure that Harriet would receive her letter.

Harriet knew from her long time association with him that Draco liked to throw around a lot of the fancy words he learnt from his father.

The truth of the matter was, Harriet actually didn't want to meet Draco. Or rather, she didn't want Draco to meet her. She had the oddest feeling that he might see her, and decide that he didn't like her.

And if that happened, she would truly be alone.

Her stomach growled loudly when she saw a plate of chocolate cake, covered by a glass cloche. She took it in quietly, and immediately started eating the cake with her bare hands. Dobby had thoughtfully placed a napkin for her to wipe her hands on as well.

 _'Why is it every time I send you food, you doubt my friendship towards you?'_ came Draco's scathing voice.

This was an established routine. Draco would do something nice for her, she'd think about his constant requests of wanting to meet her, feel insecure about said meeting, and then hurt him in the process as he felt her emotions and guessed what was going on in her head.

'Because it's too good to be true.'

Harriet paused in her devouring of the cake, feeling waves of hurt from him.

'Don't feel hurt, Drake.'

Draco didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes. However, Harriet was used to this – this was such a common occurrence, seeing as the Dursleys actively sought to starve her – and so far, nothing was going off script today.

Harry sighed out loud. She knew that the friendship she shared with Draco was not an equal one, though she took her task of keeping the boy grounded very seriously. He had a tendency to get arrogant, and often was full of contempt towards anyone he thought lesser than him.

But the friendship was unequal, because she was more dependent on him than he was on her.

'Thanks for the cake. Say thanks to Dobby as well.'

The second part was more of a reminder, than anything else.

 _'Should I really?'_ he asked– no, whined.

'Draco!' she chastised. 'Be nice! Don't behave like the Dursleys. Dobby needs some respect.'

 _'You always say that.'_

He sounded petulant.

Suddenly, Harriet felt disgust and alarm come through the link in waves. If one thing could be said for certain, it was that Draco had a penchant for dramatics.

'Now what?'

 _'He_ hugged _me!'_

'So?'

 ** _'_** _He's ugly!'_

'Hey! You said the scar on my face is okay!'

 _'You're a friend.'_

'Dobby's a friend too,' she said in her strict, no-nonsense tone.

 _'Dobby says he's over the moon that Ms Harry would be so kind to house-elves.'_

 _'_ You told him that I consider him a friend?'

 _'I had to get him off me somehow,'_ came Draco's dry remark.

By now, only the napkin was left on the plate. As usual, the cutlery vanished into thin air, bound by the Manor's magic to go back to the kitchens after being used.

Both of them stayed quiet, enjoying the mere presence of the other. It was comforting.

Harriet slowly started feeling drowsy, now that her stomach was full.

'What if the Dursleys never let me out, Drakie?'

 _'Then I'll come and save you like all those princes in those fairytales you love.'_

'Okay,' she thought sleepily, after a while.

As they both fell into a deep sleep, they dreamt of boa constrictors chasing chocolate cakes and dragons drinking pumpkin juice.

Life was always bearable, when there was a friend to share it with.

* * *

x

.

x

* * *

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harriet her longest-ever punishment, not that she was complaining. Despite being allowed only two bathroom breaks in a day, one where she was allowed to have a French bath, and being given scraps of food at around noon, she found that life had never been more peaceful.

She tuned into Draco's daily lessons with his tutor, the strict Mr Leroux who had a pencil thin moustache – that was the most prominent feature about him, in Harriet's opinion. The way he kept twirling it was a constant source of amusement to her, because of which Draco often chortled when he was supposed to be studying magical history instead. And that in turn would make Mr Leroux look at Draco suspiciously through his monocle – something that only served to amuse her even more.

But Draco was a good friend, and didn't reprimand her for her childishness. She knew that he knew that she was remaining sane only because of his presence, and he ensured that he was there with her, right from the time she woke up to the time she went to sleep.

Food, per se, wasn't a problem, because Dobby often brought her the leftovers from Malfoy Manor late at night on most days. Harriet supposed that if she'd been left solely to the Dursleys' tender loving care, only a skeleton might have been left behind in their closet.

Draco tried very _very_ hard to persuade her into letting him take her away, but as she pointed out, it would raise a lot of questions. For example, Draco's parents would want to know how Draco knew about her. And if they were to find out the truth, they would surely be sent to mind healers and Muggle psychiatrists and psychologists.

And the other lingering worry Harriet had was Mr Malfoy's views – she knew from the many scenes she'd observed that Lucius Malfoy did not approve of Muggles, and that his disapproval transferred to Muggleborns. There was no concrete proof that she wasn't a Muggleborn, as she'd pointed out to Draco countless times – which often prompted him to change the topic.

By the time she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had already started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

It was funny how Draco was the one dismayed that the remote control airplane was no longer functional – he'd wanted Harriet to have a go at it, just so he could live vicariously through her, just the way she lived vicariously through him when he played Quidditch.

The highlight of her punishment was that she'd missed school all together – something that she was ecstatic about. Because it meant that she'd avoided her many bullies and not performed anymore accidental bouts of uncontrollable magic in front of the other _normal_ people.

But now that it was the summer time, Harriet had to be extra careful. Dudley's gang of senseless lackeys visited the house every day, and their favourite sport was Harriet Hunting, where the aim was to see who could pull her hair and make her cry the most number of times.

Needless to say, Harriet, and by extension, Draco, hated the whole lot of them.

That was why Harriet spent as much time as possible outside the house, wandering around, meeting with Hermes – who was only too happy to eat the dried toast she nicked from the breakfast table – going to the local library, and thinking about the end of the holidays.

At the end of the holidays, she'd either go to Hogwarts, or if she didn't get the letter, to Stonewall High. And either way, she wouldn't be with the Dursleys anymore. It was her ticket to freedom, and she couldn't help but smile giddily at the thought of not having to see whale, the giraffe and the pig on a daily basis.

Stonewall High was a local public school with a boarding option, something that Dudley made fun of constantly. But personally, Harriet thought that if private schools like Smeltings turned out creatures like Vernon, then public school was a far better option.

Dudley had been accepted into Smeltings, Uncle Vernon's alma mater, along with his best-friend (or side-kick, as Draco called him), Piers Polkiss.

In fact, right now, the Dursleys had all gone to London for the day to get Dudders his new Smeltings uniform, leaving her behind with Mrs. Figg. Dudley had bragged to Harry that the uniform came with a walking stick. What kind of psycho school encouraged rowdy prepubescent children to carry sticks which could be used as weapons?

Of course, if she did get into Hogwarts, she too would be wielding a stick that could be used as a weapon. From her studies with Draco, she knew that a wand was a powerful instrument to focus a person's magic and that it multiplied it by approximately seven times.

But seven times zero was zero, as she had learnt in primary school. Even a wand wouldn't help her, seeing as her magic seemed to have disappeared all together now.

 _'Harriet, you brainless troll.'_

'What, Draco?' she thought, tiredly.

 _'You will definitely get the letter from Hogwarts! And if you don't, Father is on the Board of Governors. I will have him blackmail Dumbledore.'_

 _'_ Your loyalty is admirable, Drake. But I really wouldn't mind Stonewall as an alternative. It won't be Hogwarts, but it'll be away from the Dursleys.'

 _'You actually_ want _to study with those barbaric Muggles?'_

While Harriet had been able to sway Draco's perception about Muggleborns, mainly because there was a fifty percent chance she was one, Draco's opinion about Muggles had been made concrete by his hatred of the Durselys.

Harriet often asked him to consider Mrs Wormwood, the librarian, or Mr Bletchley, her English teacher, as finer examples of the Muggle society, but to no avail.

 _'What's to say I'm not a Muggle?'_ she asked, getting slightly annoyed with the fanatic way in which Draco spoke against the non-magical people. Draco said that people with magic were special, that they'd been blessed by Mother Magic.

To the contrary, Harriet did not think of herself as special. After all, she didn't even have a pretty dress or a tea set, like most girls her age had. And she had always wanted a doll house, but no one had ever got her one.

 _'STOP WITH THE THOUGHTS OF SELF-PITY!_ _I can feel waves of it hitting me here in Wiltshire,'_ came his angry, loud thoughts.

'You always get what you want, Malfoy,' she thought, feeling uncharacteristically bitter.

 _'And I'm more than willing to share everything with you. I can still talk to Mother._ You're _the one who says no all the time.'_

'I don't want your pity, Malfoy!'

 _'I know you can feel my emotions, so you know it isn't pity, Evans. And I'm tired of your wallowing in self-pity and wondering why no one helps you out. If you open your mouth and actually ask me, I would help you. And call me Malfoy once again, and I'll stop talking to you. Now, goodbye.'_

Harriet bit her lip, feeling terrible at pushing her only friend away. But before she could burst into angry tears, one of Mrs. Figg's cats landed itself on Harry's knee, and decided to lie down there. She vaguely wondered about what familiar she might choose if she got a chance to go to Hogwarts. Harry didn't mind cats, but she preferred dogs. But according to Draco, owls were the best.

Harriet scratched the cat behind the ears, and relaxed into the musty furniture. May be, it wouldn't be so bad to ask Draco for help if things got bad, right? He would probably buy her some dolls and some nice sparkly shoes.

But she hated asking people for help. She didn't want anyone's pity. In fact, she wanted to earn money and buy herself some nice things. After all, it would then feel like she deserved it. That was the only reason why she worked hard to get an 'A' grade in all her subjects, and her grades were the only reason why Aunt Petunia hadn't thrown her out yet.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. The uniform looked hideous, and Harriet briefly wondered if the Smeltings authorities had any fashion sense.

The 'walking sticks' were actually knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was apparently supposed to be good training for later life. Harriet was now convinced that Smeltings was a school for psychopaths.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harriet didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

A lone chuckle sounded in her head, and while she knew that she and Draco were still not on talking terms, she also knew that she was not alone.

* * *

x

* * *

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harriet went in to make breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. Curious, she went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's this?" she asked Aunt Petunia. The older woman's lips tightened as they always did if Harriet dared to ask a question, as if someone had kept dung under her nose.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harriet looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of my old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harriet seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High – like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

But if she were to go to Hogwarts, she already knew what types of robes she'd choose. She hoped that Draco would lend her some money, and even if he didn't, she knew Hogwarts had a special trust for orphans, from where she could withdraw money and buy second-hand clothes instead.

Though she didn't have many clothes, she had a strong sense of fashion and of what one was supposed to wear. She usually read the magazines that Aunt Petunia left behind in the living room, when no one was around. In fact, her aunt had once seen her reading them, but hadn't reprimanded her. That had been a surprise.

 _'So you think you're a fashionista?'_

Harriet couldn't help the small smile that lit up her face. This meant everything was alright between Draco and her.

'If I remember rightly, I was the one who helped you decide on your robes for your eleventh birthday party.'

 _'Please, I already knew that what I chose was good. I only needed a second opinion.'_

'You liar, I can sense you lying. Liar, liar, your pants are on fire!', she sung mentally, feeling thrilled at the way Draco mentally cringed.

 _'Stop feeding my mind with moronic Muggle verses! I need to learn the twelve properties of dragon blood today!'_

However, Harriet couldn't respond, as Uncle Vernon was making her get the mail. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling him to make Dudley get it.

Harriet dodged Dudley's foot which was sticking out and went to get the mail.

She chose to ignore Draco's mental ramblings about how the 'pig boy' needed the exercise more than her.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a

bill, and – a letter for Harriet.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. Could this be it? Could this be the Hogwarts letter? There it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.

.

Ms. Harriet P. Evans

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

.

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address as written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, she saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

 _'_ Draco?' she asked, her own mental voice sounding weak. 'Is this what I think it is?'

She felt his mind probing hers, and allowed him to see through her eyes.

There was a moment's pause. And then:

 _'YES! I KNEW YOU WOULD GET YOUR LETTER! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA–'_

Harriet cut him off, his thoughts so exuberant that it was giving her a head ache. She knew she was supposed to feel joyous, but at the moment, she felt trepidation. What would happen next? Would the Durselys pay her Hogwarts tuition?

Harriet felt herself panicking, and let the connection spring back into existence.

 _'You didn't have to block me out.'_

Though Draco's thoughts sounded petulant, she knew that he was just excited. After all, she could feel his excitement here in Surrey.

'What do I do now, Draco? Show the letter to _them_?'

 _'You know? Something's fishy about the whole thing. You should have had a Hogwarts staff come in to give you your letter.'_

'What do you mean?'

 _'Muggleborns usually don't receive a letter just like that. Which means I'm right, you're not a Mudblood.'_

 _'_ I thought I told you that that word makes me feel sick.'

 _'Sorry, you know how Father gets when I say Muggleborn instead of Mudblood.'_

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

 _'Listen to me, I really don't think you should show the letter to them. Leave it in your cupboard and then go back to breakfast,'_ said Draco seriously, and for once, Harriet decided not to argue, feeling the cogs of Draco's brain turning – he was thinking very hard.

Harriet went back to the breakfast table, trying to pretend as if everything was indeed normal, clutching the other two letters tightly.

"No letter bombs, Uncle Vernon. We're safe," she tried to joke, earning herself a rare twitch of his moustache, as she handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard and sat down.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. She's cutting her vacation short, coming back next week."

Harriet kept her head down and focussed on the toast that she'd been given, listening to Draco as he voiced out his plan.

 _'Something's not quite right, and we need to figure it out. You've simply received a letter, which means you aren't a Muggleborn. But your relatives are clearly Muggles, which possibly means they know that it exists.'_

'And you're thinking of using this as a chance to test out that theory, aren't you?'

 _'Yes. If the Hogwarts owl which delivered the letter goes back without a reply, it'll come back with two more letters. And if Hogwarts still doesn't receive a reply, you'll be sent four in its place.'_

'Ah, an exponential function!' she exclaimed to him, and she felt him mentally roll his eyes.

 _'Stop showing off your prowess with Arithmancy.'_

'Oh, shut up. Anyway, you think that the Dursleys haven't told me I'm a witch probably because they're scared of magic, right? That means I can use the Hogwarts letter as a bargaining chip to get things done!'

 _'Exactly! We can use it to get you out of the cupboard. Don't think I didn't notice how the letter was adressed.'_

'Okay, Drake,' she agreed, as Petunia told her to wash the plates.

She couldn't wait to get back to her cupboard.

* * *

x

* * *

Later that afternoon, when she was relieved of her duties for the day, she rushed to the cupboard, so that she could _finally_ read her letter in peace.

 _'What are you_ doing _?'_ asked Draco, perplexed, as she stuffed the letter into her underwear.

'I'm going to read my Hogwarts letter in peace, on our tree.'

As Draco went back to his conversation with his mother about how he was supposed to behave at the tea that the Goyles were holding the next day, Harriet walked uncomfortably to their tree, the letter poking her in the worst of places.

Of course, Draco found that funny.

Once she'd climbed to the branch where she usually met with Hermes, she leaned back against the trunk and pulled out the letter.

 _'Finally.'_

'Shh, I let you read yours, didn't I?'

 _'And then you asked me some hundred thousand questions.'_

Harriet ran a finger over the green loopy letters, feeling her heart hammering. This was it. It wasn't like she didn't know what was inside – after all, she'd read Draco's with him – but this was confirmation that she was special, that she belonged to another world, that she'd belong here with the Dursleys.

She could feel Draco waiting with bated breath, as she slid a finger under the flap and broke the seal.

.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme_

 _Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Ms. Evans,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

.

Harriet flipped the envelope to once again read her name.

'What do you think the P stands for?' she asked Draco.

 _'Petunia?_ ' he suggested, and she could feel his smirk.

'Maybe it's Pansy,' she retorted, and grinned as she felt the revulsion bubble in him.

 _'Merlin, I have to meet with her tomorrow. Mother's said I should be nice to her if I want to play Quidditch with Blaise.'_

'I don't see why you don't like her – she's a nice person,' she commented. Pansy Parkinson wasn't a very pretty girl – her nose was oddly shaped – but Harriet knew from experience that how one looked had little to do with what type of person they were.

For example, a girl in her class, Jeyna McKinley, despite being the prettiest girl in town, was one of the vilest as well. Harriet always imagined that Jeyna and Dudley would probably end up marrying each other and would have the spawn of Satan together.

 _'I don't think you should take the letter back home,'_ said Draco suddenly, and unconsciously, Harriet clutched her Hogwarts letter to herself.

'What do you mean?'

 _'I just have a bad feeling about it. Why I don't I send Hermes over? He'll bring it back, and I'll keep it safe in my toy box.'_

Harriet took in a deep breath and looked up to see how the sunlight was streaming in through the leaves.

"Okay," she said out loud.

* * *

x

* * *

The next morning was eerily similar to the previous day.

This time, when Harriet was made to get the mail, there were three letters, two of which were addressed to her.

 _'Good luck!'_ wished Draco, and she smiled grimly.

It was time to put her acting skills to use. She knew how to do that – after all, she'd witnessed the many tantrums that Draco had thrown on purpose to get things his way.

She ripped open her Hogwarts letters, both of them, and then stormed into the room, yelling, "This is not funny, Dudley! Your prank is stupid!"

As usual, Aunt Petunia came to the defence of her Ickle-Diddydums, and snapped at Harriet, "Mind your tone, girl."

Harriet thrust one letter into Petunia's face, and then the other into Vernon's.

Uncle Vernon, whose face had been a fire-engine red from how she'd yelled, went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped, just as Petunia let out a strangled, ""Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

"What's going on? I didn't do anything!" exclaimed an annoyed Dudley, and it was entirely Harriet's fault that she didn't see his hand coming when he hit her on top of the head.

Draco said something entirely unmentionable, as she felt the pain shoot through her. Yet, she didn't reprimand him, for once.

Dudley tried to grab at his father's letter, but Uncle Vernon held it high above, and stared at his wife, as she too held hers above, so that Dudley couldn't snatch it from her.

 _'Look at their expressions, they've always known you were a witch,'_ said Draco, simply voicing what she'd been thinking already.

"Let me read it!" cried Dudley.

The two older Dursleys stared at each other, seemingly having forgotten that Harriet and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

Harriet was glad to note that both she and Draco found that a bit amusing.

"Is any of what it said true? Is it not a prank?" asked Harriet, trying to make herself sound awed.

 _'Perfect, Riet.'_

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

"IS IT TRUE?" she yelled.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Dudley promptly put his ear to the keyhole, and Harriet was smart enough to not pick up a fight with him that she would only lose. So she lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

 _'That's the power of wizards, you bitch.'_ Draco sounded coldly angry, and a touch smug as well. Harriet's sleeping quarters had always been a sore point for him.

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

 _'As if us wizards would waste our times on you, you fat lump.'_

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

'Draco! What if they do write and say no?'

 _'Hogwarts accepts letters only by owl. They don't have one.'_

'Remind me to get one as my familiar.'

Harriet felt Draco hum in response, as she watched Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pace up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...

"But –"

 _'Brilliant. That old coot Dumbledore will keep harassing you till he gets an acceptance or a rejection. And you can, in the mean time, try to score the second bedroom.'_

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

'So we were right. Those two do know about my being a witch.'

However, Draco was now supremely angry, so much so that she could see through his eyes clearly now – their visions had swapped. He was glaring at a fireplace that had no fire.

 _'STAMP IT OUT? Stamp it out! Magic is not a cigar to be stamped out!'_

'Stop over-reacting. That means my parents would have been magical as well. If they were magical, what were they doing in a car? You said wizards prefer Flooing and Apparating to Muggle methods of transportation.'

However, her calm rationalisations were lost on him. Harriet sighed, and cut off the link. She needed some silence to manipulate this situation, and Draco was a help only as long as he remained calm.

She remained with her nose pressed to the cold tile of the floor, listening.

* * *

x

* * *

She didn't have to wait long to ask for a shift of quarters. In fact, she didn't have to ask at all.

When Uncle Vernon got back from work that evening, he visited Harriet in her cupboard, something which he had never done before. He even knocked and asked if he could come in, before opening the door.

"Am I really going to a school of witchcraft and wizardry?" she asked, as soon as the door opened. Privately, she was glad that her real letter was now safely stashed away in Draco's toy box. If it had been here, chances were that the ruse would have been up sooner rather than later.

"It's not real. It was a joke, addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

She made her eyes wide, and purposely clenched her fists. She hoped she sounded angry. "It was not a mistake. It had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

 _'Morgana, I've been mentally scarred,'_ said Draco, as he tuned in to see what was happening.

"Er – yes, Harriet – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... You're really getting a bit big for it... We think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

 _'SCORE!'_

"I don't mind staying here," she said, deviating from the plan. She couldn't resist it. If she refused to move upstairs, maybe she could ask for more things.

"Don't be impertinent!" snapped her uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now. Then comb your hair and come down for dinner."

"No."

"What?" spluttered Uncle Vernon. His face was becoming an interesting shade of red.

"I think I would like to stay here and skip dinner, unless I get to eat as much dessert as Dudley." Harriet remembered to cross her arms and behave as if sulky.

 _'Good job, Evans. You'll make a fine Slytherin.'_

Uncle Vernon's face was now becoming purple.

"Why are you so bloody stubborn, you ungrateful child! Your aunt and I took you in, and this is how you make demands of us. Go keep your things in that bloody room, and come down to eat immediately."

Harriet felt a sense of satisfaction at having managed to rile up this whale of a man. Great, she was now behaving like Draco. But she really couldn't help it.

It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to Dudley's toy room. And throughout the shift, she couldn't help but smirk.

Many miles away, in a manor in Wiltshire, Draco had a similar smirk on his face, as he ate his soup without slurping.

* * *

x

* * *

Later that night, as she lay on her new bed, she sighed. Her stomach was full, especially after two large bowls of vanilla ice-cream.

 _'What's got you so mopey, Riet?'_

Draco was the only one who called her Riet. That was his special name for her, a name he used when he was feeling particularly affectionate.

'I don't think there's a word called "mopey", Draco.'

 _'Quit trying to avoid my question.'_

She sighed mentally this time.

'It all feels too good to last. When has my luck ever lasted this long?'

 _'I promise you, your luck will last. You'll go to Hogwarts with me.'_

'And if I don't?'

 _'Then I'll ask Father to do something. Anyway, want some piece of gossip I heard?'_

'What?' she asked, tiredly. She appreciated the fact that her friend was trying to make her think of other things.

 _'It seems a celebrity will be joining Hogwarts as well. It's that Boy-Who-Lived. I told you about how he vanquished the Dark Lord, didn't I?'_

'Mmhmm. And you also told me that no one knew his identity, only that he's from the Potter family. That it was a well guarded secret that only few people knew.'

 _'Well, apparently Dumbledore knows exactly who he is. Father reckons that Dumbledore has hidden him, and that he's been giving him special training to take over the world.'_

'Do you think he's happy wherever he is?' Harriet asked, after a while.

 _'I suppose he will be some stuck-up, arrogant entitled know-it-all.'_

 _'_ He'll be an orphan, just like me.'

 _'Now don't go about falling in love with him!'_

'Of course not, Draco. I'm going to run away with Blaise.'

She smiled as she felt Draco writhe in disgust.

 _'Blaise Zabini is a pompous idiot who is as vain as a peacock.'_

'And who spends nearly thirty minutes in front of the mirror every day, trying to gel it to perfection.'

 _'Ahem,'_ he coughed, before changing the topic. _'Now do you want to hear about the Potter boy or not?'_

'Go on, tell me.'

 _'Rumour has it that he'll be starting school with us – that's what the Daily Prophet article said. Father, and so many others, have tried finding out his complete details, to no avail. His birth records have been removed from the Ministry, but Mother says that Mrs Potter was pregnant at the same time as her._

 _'Rita Skeeter, the writer of the article, tried contacting known friends of the Potters, but all of them have been made to swear on their magic by Dumbledore, so no one knows anything for sure.'_

'Why are _you_ so interested in him? Seems to me, you're the one in love with him,' she thought, cheekily.

 _'Don't you want to find out what all he has learnt from that old coot, and bring ourselves up to that level?'_

'He'll probably be some genius. Didn't you say that he fought with the Dark Lord and escaped with just a star shaped scar on his chest?'

 _'So what? You'll beat him in academics, because you're just so smart, and I'll beat him in Quidditch and duelling, you just wait and see.'_

'Maybe he'll be lonely, and he'll just need a friend.'

 _'You can be his friend, but he's not allowed to be your best friend.'_

 _'_ That'll always be you, Drakie.'

Harriet felt herself smile slowly, as she imagined getting to be with Draco all the time. She couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts.

* * *

x

* * *

AN: Reviews are love.


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